Washed Away
by TheCrimsonInkwell
Summary: I'm sorry I left. I left my friends...My family...and my lover. Severus. You I will miss the most.


Washed Away

Rain. Oh, how he loved rain. Washing, cleansing, and purifying him of his sins. He knew what he'd done, and what he was doing. He knew what the rain, _his_ rain, would help him do.

The rain had never failed him, and hopefully it never would. The rain was innocence in the purest form. It washed away the blood, the death, and the horror that stained his hands.

He stood outside the thrashing lake, soaked from head to toe. He wasn't shivering though, no, he was closing his eyes in pleasure of the hard pressure the rain came own with. In one way it chilled him, scared him, but in another way it comforted him like a parent would, like a friend or a lover. It caressed him in a way only it could. The heavens sent down their love.

It was time, he though absentmindedly. He had no plans of rushing. The wind was howling and lighting was striking the lake and beyond. He closed his eyes and breathed in. The air was many things; death, deception, betrayal, all things he had experience in his life. But one thing the stars were promising, shining bright through the clouds, was _freedom_. Pure, sweet, undulated, _freedom_.

He took out a dagger and held it loosely in his hand. It was his guide to what he wanted most.

He knew what he was doing; he knew what he was leaving behind. But it was meant to be. It was his time.

In his right hand was a dagger, but in his left was a rose. A single violet rose.

It was so dark you had to squint to see it wasn't black. It had seven thorns. One for each time he had encountered Voldemort. One for each friend that had been killed. One for each person he had led unknowingly to their death. And one for each member of his family.

Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Remus, Tonks, and Severus.

Ginny. She was like cousin, a close friend, but not a sibling. She brought out the best in him, but anyone who said that were then told vehemently that they weren't a couple and never would be. Too true. She was a Fighter and a Friend.

Hermione. She was the sister missing in his life. The one to turn to when all was lost, the one who could make an elevator out of a shoelace and a piece of wood. She helped him when he was down, and guide him when he was up.

Ron. Ron was like a train barreling down a tunnel. He was always surprising Harry, with old and new tricks and trinkets. He was the one that wouldn't understand, wouldn't want to understand why he left.

Remus. He was the one he most regretted leaving. After Sirius died, he had become a father figure to Harry. He was the one that taught him, the one that treated him as just Harry. He was the portrait father.

Tonks. She was like an older sister; a partner in class and mischief. Harry clearly remembered the day they both went around looking like a teenage Tom Riddle. She was a light when missions failed, a beacon to guide them all back to where they belonged.

And finally, Severus. He was the one that taught him how to play dirty. He was marked, but was one of the bravest men he knew. He was his life, his lover, his best friend. But as much as he loved him, he couldn't take being The-Boy-Who-Live-To-Defeat-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named any longer.

He gripped the rose tightly, thorns cutting into his hand. He didn't care. The rain would just wash it away. He brought the knife to his arm, and as the clock struck midnight, made a crescent shape cut on his wrist. Blood flowed freely from it, staining the ground. He watched in fascination while it flowed. The wind howled and pulled the petals of the rose; three of them came free and swirled off into the night. The moon showed briefly through the clouds, shining down on him. He switched hand and made another slash on his other wrist. Five petals came free.

The blood flowed, but the rain washed it away. It cleaned the cut, making it come faster. Slowly, he collapsed to the ground. He dropped the dagger, but the rose was still clutched in his hand. He felt his eyes closing, and as his soul blinked out of existence, the last violet petal came free.

There was something in the air when the sun rose the next day. Many a man came and wept over the still body. But with a great sadness came freedom he had been longing for, and they all knew that it had been his time.

And so ends the life of one Harry James Potter. He died with a smile on his face, as the rain washed his life away.

Fin

Epilogue

Two years later one Severus Snape was standing at the edge of a grave. He knelt and lay down a flower. It was a single, thorn less, violet rose. He stood up, with tears in his eyes. The gravestone read one thing. A poem, the last thing Harry had left them.

Lives are taken

Lives are forgotten

Lives begin anew

War does this

I'm sorry I left

I left my friends

My family

My lover

Severus

You I will miss the most

I'm sorry

Harry James Potter

1979-1998


End file.
